


The Queen of Republic City

by old_and_new_friends



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: 1920s, Background Relationships, Coming Out, Drag Queens, Friendship, Gen, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:22:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28527654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/old_and_new_friends/pseuds/old_and_new_friends
Summary: General Iroh of the United Forces has a secret.It isn’t a dirty secret, at least not to him, but a secret he keeps nonetheless. It’s something he does for himself as he finds enjoyment from it.Most people would never guess that Lily Fire, the most well known drag queen in Republic City, is also their star General. At least, not until Avatar Korra and friends stumble upon General Iroh at a drag bar and unknowingly invite him to watch his own show.Just how long can the good General keep his secret?
Relationships: Iroh II & the Krew
Kudos: 21





	The Queen of Republic City

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: A minor Character is mentioned committing Suicide in this fic.

Iroh personally loved the Drag scene of Republic City. He liked the atmosphere, he liked the other performers, he liked the dresses and make up. He also very much liked taking it all off at the end of the show. He wasn’t sure how some of the others did this as a career, even as a hobby it was a bit much for Iroh.

Iroh practically ripped the wig off his head, as he ran his fingers over his scalp to sooth the irritation from wearing such a heavy wig for so long.

There was laughter from one of the mirrors in the dressing room backstage and Iroh turned to see Aunt La watching him.

“What?” Iroh asked.

“Nothing, you just never change,” Aunt La said, turning back to their makeup application.

Iroh stuck his tongue out.

Aunt La, had been his mentor since he was twenty-four, though Iroh’s experience with drag dated even farther back.

When Iroh was a kid, he’d often be caught stealing his mother’s make up and allowing his sister to dress them up in matching outfits. His parents hadn’t really cared, as to them it was just a stage of childhood.

It didn’t start becoming something more until Iroh was thirteen.

His mother had left him alone in the Fire Lord suites of the Fire Nation Embassy and Iroh had quickly escaped into the large city.

At the time, the Drag Scene wasn’t really a thing. Instead, there were comedy shows where female impersonators made rather offensive caricatures of women, alongside other acts. Iroh went to them even if he found them distasteful, simply to see men like him, who weren’t afraid to dress as women.

The show Iroh had snuck into was different, though.

Choi had been their stage name, though Iroh would later learn it was their last name. She had been beautiful as she danced across the stage to the music playing. Iroh had been shocked to discover, she was a he and he, was a female impersonator. 

Iroh had never heard of female impersonators performing like that, and intrigued, Iroh slipped back stage.

Security hadn’t been impressed with him, but Choi had stopped them and asked what it was Iroh had wanted.

“I want to be like you,” Iroh said, looking up at the other in wonder. “I want to perform like you.”

Choi smiled sadly down at him. “No, you don’t,” he said. “It’s more strenuous than it looks. Go to school and get a good job, kid.”

Iroh had swallowed down his disappointment and nodded.

Over the years Iroh followed Choi’s career almost obsessively. Iroh bought Choi’s beauty line when it was put out and still held all of Choi’s beauty style magazines. No one really cared too much in the Fire Nation that their Prince occasionally wore makeup and feminine clothing but the same couldn’t be said for Republic City.

When Iroh was fifteen, female impersonation had been outlawed in the United Republic and Choi had killed himself.

Iroh was twenty-one when the ban was lifted, but fear kept him from sneaking down to the shows when docked in the city. When he finally did gather up the courage, what he saw nearly blew his mind.

Female impersonation was dead, and drag had taken its place. Apparently, Choi had led female impersonation into a new era, one that tore through Republic City by storm. Making it illegal hadn’t stopped everyone and what reemerged was beyond anything Iroh could imagine.

Iroh had been mesmerized by the shows and sat in the front completely starstruck. Aunt La said his eyes had been wide open and his mouth slack in awe the entire show.

He apparently hadn’t learned much in ten years, as he slipped backstage after that show too.

His experience was different that time, as instead of dismissing him like Choi did, Aunt La had taken one look at him and said, “Honey, you gonna stand there or are you gonna come in and learn a thing about drag?”

Iroh had startled but after a brief moment of hesitation, he had slipped into the dressing room and with it, an entirely new side of his life formed.

Iroh wiped the last of his makeup from his face, resigning himself to the fact that the last of the mascara was only coming off in the shower.

"You leaving, honey?" Aunt La said.

"Yeah," Iroh said, "I have to get up early tomorrow."

Aunt La laughed again. "Military men," they scoffed.

Iroh rolled his eyes as he pulled his pants up and tucked his shirt in. "Yeah, yeah, not worth a thing but a fun night," Iroh said. "I've heard it enough."

Aunt La pouted newly painted lips at him playfully and Iroh sent a sarcastic kiss back before leaving.

Iroh slipped out into the main room of the bar the shows were hosted in. It was easier to explain why Iroh slipped in and out of the main entrance, than it was to explain why he slipped out the back if he ever got caught.

Then again, Iroh didn't really care if he got caught. He didn't put much stock into his personal image, not really caring what those of Republic City thought of him. He hid this side of him, not out of image, but out of preference.

It was something Iroh had that was completely his. Growing up in the public eye meant nothing was really his. Relationships, family drama, favorite foods, and even the brand of underwear he wore were splashed across various newspapers somewhere over his twenty-nine years of life.

Iroh slipped onto a bar stool and nodded at the bartender. Drinks were free for performers, but the bartender was sweet on Iroh, if only because she knew he tipped well regardless.

A drink was placed in front of him and Iroh slid a handful of Yuans across the bar.

"Just the one," Iroh said before she left hearing range. She nodded at him before moving over to serve a familiar face.

Iroh's eyes widened and he turned his head away in the hopes Bolin wouldn't see him. He wondered vaguely what he was doing here but didn't have the time to really question it as his eyes locked on a familiar blue pair.

Iroh mentally curse as Avatar Korra's eyes lit up with recognition.

He sighed as the woman came over to talk to him. At least she caught him in the bar and not backstage.

"Hey, General," Korra said, "didn't expect to see you here."

"It's a good bar," Iroh muttered.

"Opal brought us here," Korra said, not seeming to pick up on his tense body language. "Not sure how she found it but she wanted to bring us. She's interested in the drag shows so she dragged us with her."

Iroh nodded, tipping back his glass until the last of the drink was gone.

"Well, it's been a pleasure, Avatar Korra, but I have to go, busy day tomorrow, you caught me on my way out," Iroh said.

"Oh, shame," Korra said, in a way that made Iroh believe her. "I was wondering if you wanted to join us. It would be cool to have someone familiar with the place to show up the ropes of the place."

Iroh hummed slightly as he stood.

"There's another show next week if you want to come with us?" Korra asked. "We missed this one, Opal got the time wrong."

"Sure," Iroh said, more interested in leaving the bar quickly, than actually going with them.

"Great!" Korra said. "See you next week then, General."

Iroh watched her walk away before quickly making his way to the door. It was only when he reached his apartment that he realized what he agreed to.

He had a performance next week and there was no way he could do both. He contemplated canceling with Korra but knew the young woman would keep on about it. He didn't know her well but knew she wasn't the type to let things go.

He called the bar instead and canceled his performance. They weren't pleased about it, Iroh, or rather Lily Fire, was one of their most popular performers and a lot of people didn't show up if they knew he wasn't performing. The bar revenue struggled the months Iroh had to ship away from Republic City, as Lily Fire went with him.

Iroh sighed to himself and resigned himself to the fact that his weekly stress relief outlet wasn’t happening next week.

It would be fine. Iroh had a different routine for when he was shipped out, that consisted of carefully applying his makeup and curling his natural hair into the popular pixie cut style, before washing it all away in the shower.

It was usually enough to quiet his thoughts until they returned to port and he could escape the mind of General Iroh the Younger, Crown Prince of the Fire Nation, and into the mind of Lily Fire, a no name woman having the time of her life on stage at the attention of men and women alike.

It still wasn’t the same as putting on a show, though he knew his soldiers wouldn’t complain if he ever did wish to tell and perform for them. Drag had somehow become popular in the military when Iroh wasn’t looking. He’d seen a lot of his soldiers in the crowds of the bar over the years and a few of them had put on amateurish and slightly garish shows in jest.

Iroh shook off the feeling of doom hovering over him. He moved to the bathroom to take a quick shower, finally managing to get the mascara off, before collapsing into bed.

Shows left Iroh in a strange limbo between exhausted and keyed up but his encounter with the Avatar had ruined the energetic high.

It didn’t take him long to slip off to sleep.

\---

Iroh waited outside the bar he typically performed at, tapping his thumb on his leg.

“Hi, General!” Korra called out.

“Hello, Korra,” Iroh replied, bowing slightly towards Korra and her friends.

“Huh,” Bolin said, squinting at him, “I’ve never seen you out of uniform before. I didn’t know you were allowed to do that.”

“Well, I certainly don’t sleep in it,” Iroh replied, having grown accustomed to Bolin’s more eccentric traits having been tied to the man for an hour.

“So,” Opal said, looping her arm with his, “Korra said you can give us a run down on the bar?”

Iroh smiled down at Opal. “If I must,” he replied. Opal was one of the few Beifong kids Iroh could stand. He had been raised alongside the eldest Bataar Jr. but differences in personality meant Iroh hadn’t seen Opal since they were both younger. Iroh had a falling out with Bataar when they were sixteen and hadn’t spoken to him since. Opal had been eight at the time. 

“You must,” Opal replied, pulling him into the bar.

Iroh sighed as Opal pulled them as close to the front as they could get. Aunt La wasn’t letting him live this down when they saw him.

“Lily Fire’s supposed to be performing tonight,” Opal said. “I’ve really wanted to catch one of her shows. I’ve heard people call her The Queen of Republic City and something tells me you don’t earn a title like that without reason.”

Iroh’s face flushed at the topic.

“I heard she pulled out last week,” Iroh said, nonchalantly, “but she should be back next week.”

“That’s a shame,” Asami said. “I was looking forward to it too.”

“Well, if she doesn’t show up today, we can come back next week,” Korra said.

“Please tell me this isn’t about to turn into a weekly venture,” Mako said.

“Oh,” Bolin said, “Mako, that’s a great idea.”

“No, wait,” Mako said but it was too late, the group had already settled on it.

Iroh watched the interaction in bemusement. Iroh didn’t really have many friends his age, in fact he had none, and wasn’t really comfortable with the joking conversation going on.

He didn’t have to sit awkwardly for long as the show soon started.

He was right, Aunt La took one look at him sitting in the crowed and turned the performance entirely on him. It amused those at the table with him, but it only served to make Iroh nervous.

He was going to get an earful next week.

One good thing did come of the venture. Iroh had forgotten, in all the excitement of doing drag himself, just how fun the shows were to watch without the pressure of having to perform himself.

He felt like that dumbstruck twenty-four-year-old, or the starry-eyed thirteen-year-old again, as he watched people, he’d seen perform in passing, doing their full sets. He could feel himself falling in love with the art all over again.

As the full show drew to a close, Iroh grew nervous again. He knocked back the last of his drink and moved to stand as an escape.

“Well, it’s been lovely, but I need to get home,” Iroh said.

“So soon?” Asami asked. She sounded disappointed, though Iroh wasn’t sure why.

“Was there another part to the night I wasn’t informed of?” Iroh asked.

“We were going to get some food,” Bolin said. “Like real food, not bar food.”

Iroh looked between the group before nodding and joining them out to eat.

On one hand, it was nice to have people he could hold a friendly conversation with. On the other, they were about seven to nine years younger than him and Iroh was mostly past the stage of life they were discussing.

He was about to dismiss himself again when Opal invited him to the next week’s show.

“We missed Lily Fire,” Opal reasoned, “so we should go see her next show. I think you’d like her. Her entire style is supposedly Fire Nation.”

Iroh gave a strained smile. He was already aware of the Fire Nation styles Lily Fire wore. Iroh often incorporated styles and colors from his home country into his stage outfits. 

“I can’t,” Iroh said. “I have another obligation I need to keep.”

“Oh,” Opal said, deflating, “well, take care Iroh. You seemed very lonely at the bar last week. You know my family is always willing to catch up if you wanted.”

Iroh bit his lip.

Lonely was not how he would describe it. Iroh was not lonely in the sense that he lacked company. He simply lacked deep connections outside his family.

He didn’t see it as much of a problem, though apparently the rest of this group did.

“I’m fine, Opal,” Iroh said. “Thank you for your concern though.”

The group waved him from the restaurant.

Iroh still wasn’t sure what to make of the group. They seemed genuine enough in their offer but Iroh for the life of him, couldn’t figure out why they made it. Iroh was older than them and was barely an acquaintance.

He made a face as he reached his apartment and locked the door behind him.

He took a deep breath before seating himself at his dresser. Iroh had created a mock vanity from it and while it was occasionally awkward to move around, it worked well enough.

He turned the radio on and set to work on doing his makeup. He decided to take the time and practice a new look for next week’s show. He contemplated his hair and for a moment wondered if he should perform without a wig next time.

He ultimately discarded the idea, as using Iroh’s hair for Lily Fire’s show made the two worlds clash uncomfortably.

Iroh didn’t bother putting on one of his dresses or wigs and instead took to wandering the apartment to the beat of the radio. If he couldn’t put on a show for the bar, he could at least put one on for himself.

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep on the sofa with the makeup still on but trying to get it off the next morning made him late to a meeting with President Zhu Li.

\---

Iroh didn’t typically get nervous before a show. In fact, it had only happened twice.

His first show, Iroh had nearly canceled due to how scared he was to go on stage. The other was a show where, upon entering the stage, he had frozen as sitting in the audience had been his sister. Iroh’s heart had nearly beat out of his chest the entire time he was performing.

He had nearly thrown up when a rose appeared at his mirror in the dressing room with a letter attached from Ursa. Ursa wasn’t unfamiliar with what Iroh looked like dolled up as a woman, she’d seen if before, but the shows were different. His family, and nation, were well aware of his crossdressing, but the shows were something for him.

Ursa seemed to respect that in her letter. She had joked that she’d recognized his odd dancing skills from their childhood and told him he looked beautiful. It was the only time the two had discussed what Iroh did in his free time.

He peered out from the back, hoping he wasn’t recognized this time.

“Hey, hotshot, want to explain yourself for last week?” Aunt La said, peering out into the bar with him.

Iroh jumped and turned with a guilty expression.

“Some, acquaintances, saw me after my last show and invited me to last week’s show. I agreed before really thinking about it,” Iroh said. “Now I’m worried they will recognize me.”

“Doubt it,” Aunt La said, “You’ve only been caught once and your sister’s known you since she was born. There have been plenty of people in here that know you, who had no clue who you were. If these people are acquaintances, it’s highly unlikely they will recognize you. You worry too much, Lily.”

Iroh sighed. He knew he worried too much.

He shook himself and took a deep breath as a stage hand gestured him to the stage.

“Presenting Republic City’s greatest treasure, The Queen of Republic City herself, Lily Fire,” the announcer called.

Iroh released his breath before joining the stage.

The jazz band started up as Iroh and a few back up dancers moved about the stage. Iroh rarely performed to vocal tracts like the others, what drew people to him was his playfulness with the crowd and the fact that Iroh wasn’t afraid to leave the stage.

He slid onto the table next to him as he crossed his legs and winked before launching back up into a spin that sent the ends of his stylized and overly exaggerated ruqun fanning out around him. 

Iroh caught the owner’s eye at the end of the spin and toned it down. The owner didn’t like it when Iroh got too sensual with his shows. Iroh couldn’t help himself sometimes, flirting was another hidden hobby of his.

Iroh finished with a bright cherry-lipped smile at the audience before leaving the stage.

He hadn’t even looked at the table to the left of the stage, more than aware of who was sitting there.

Iroh winced as Aunt La tugged on his wig. He had pinned it down a bit too well this time and it wasn’t coming loose with Iroh’s blind attempts to get it off.

“Hold still,” Aunt La said, jerking his head back around. “I had it and now it’s gone.”

“Ow,” Iroh said, as one of the pins stabbed him in the head. “I think you did that on purpose.”

“Prove it,” Aunt La said, smirking at him as they finally pulled the wig free.

“Um, excuse me, I was wondering if there was anyway, I could get a picture with Lily Fire?”

Iroh felt dread slide down his spine as he looked up to see Opal and the rest of her friends standing in the dressing room. Iroh didn’t even ask how they got back here, though he did wonder vaguely if the bodyguard would be okay.

Aunt La threw the wig back over Iroh’s head and it landed haphazardly.

“General Iroh?” Korra asked in shock as, without the wig and makeup, it was easy to identify him, even if he was still wearing a ruqun.

Aunt La placed their hand on Iroh’s shoulder. Iroh squeezed it lightly.

Iroh took a deep breath and released it before looking over at Korra and her friends. Maybe he could get them to be quiet about it. It wouldn’t be so bad to let a few people in on his secret, he just wished he’d had more choice on who those people were.

“Hi,” Iroh said. “Sorry I had to cancel the show last week.”

“You,” Bolin said, “but, what?”

“What Bolin means to say is we are very sorry for invading your privacy and if you want us to keep this to ourselves, it will never leave this dressing room, right guys,” Asami said, staring her friends down.

There was an awkward but universal agreement from the group and Iroh felt the tension in his shoulders slowly loosen.

“So, about that picture?” Opal asked.

Iroh frowned slightly at the idea of putting the wig back on.

“Maybe next week,” Iroh said, placing the black wig on the mannequin it was stored on.

\---

Iroh should have known Opal would make him keep that promise. The group showed up the next week and true to Mako’s fears from earlier, it became a weekly thing.

At first Iroh avoided the group once Opal got her picture. He kept to his usual routine of a drink after his show then home.

That changed when Korra invited him over to their table again after nearly a month of Iroh intentionally ignoring them. Iroh almost said no, but the draw of watching other performers ended with him seated at the table with them.

It became a habit and before Iroh knew it he had somehow been adopted into their fold. He wouldn’t consider himself a part of their team but they were at least his friends.

The thing that surprised Iroh the most about having the others know who he was, was that drag still felt like his thing. His new friends knowing about him didn’t make the act of dressing and performing feel less like something for him and him alone.

Iroh had always been worried that people knowing meant he would have to share this side of him but he had slowly realized he was wrong. The group never made demands of Iroh or made him feel intruded on, aside from the dressing room incident from before.

Slowly Iroh branched out more. His parents hadn’t been surprised to find he had been involved with the drag scene. His father had already known exactly where Iroh had been slipping off to, back when he had been Iroh’s commanding officer. They were surprised, however, to learn that he was Lily Fire.

After that, Iroh had gotten the courage one night, nearly a year since Opal dragged her friends to the drag bar Iroh performed at, to test the waters with his shipmates.

They had been driving him crazy all night with the loud music they played as they docked on a small, unnamed island near Kyoshi. One of the men was trying to nail the Kyoshi make up while a few female soldiers frowned at them.

“That’s a bit disrespectful,” Iroh said, coming up behind the man.

He had jolted and the atmosphere in the room had gone from playful to professional in a snap. Iroh sighed. 

“The Kyoshi Warriors are a well-trained martial arts group, not a fashion statement,” Iroh said. “If you want to wear makeup and a dress, don’t be a chicken about it and hide behind a uniform.”

The female soldiers had laughed and most had expected that to be the end of it. They hadn’t expected Iroh to seat himself across from the other and start showing them the proper way to put on makeup.

“Why do you know all this stuff, General?” One particularly brave lieutenant asked.

“Didn’t you know?” Iroh asked. “It’s a hobby of mine. You act like you’ve never seen a drag queen.”

Iroh never told them his stage name and he refused to perform for them, stating it wasn’t professional but a few of the smarter ones figured it out. Iroh would spot a solider or two in the audience, who occasionally went wide-eyed with realization.

The only people Iroh kept his secret hobby from was the media and so far, that had been surprisingly easy as they people who knew, kept it to themselves.

Ultimately, Iroh just felt more comfortable being himself, unaware of how much he had closed himself off to protect his secret hobby.

On his last show before he shipped back out for eight months Iroh exited the stage to a kid arguing with the security guards.

“Just one second please?” the boy asked. “I just want to talk.”

“Something wrong?” Iroh asked.

The boy startled before turning around and looking up at him in surprised awe.

“I want to be like you,” the boy blurted out. “I want to perform like you.”

Iroh looked down at the boy who nearly eighteen years later had echoed Iroh’s exact words to Choi. Iroh had never figured out what exactly had worn Choi down so much, but having been in the show business a while, he could guess. Still, Iroh wasn’t as jaded.

“No,” Iroh said, “you should be like yourself, whoever that may be. Trust me, it’s the best thing you’ll ever do, even if it isn’t always what you expect. Now get out of here kid, I know you aren’t old enough to even be in the bar, let alone backstage.”

The boy smiled sheepishly before quickly running from the bar before security could remove him.

Iroh waited until the boy was completely gone before ripping his wig off. He hated having such a sensitive scalp.

**Author's Note:**

> Choi is based on the performer Julian Eltinge though all my information is pulled from YouTube videos. Eltinge was a female impersonator that brought the art closer to the more well-known drag shows of today. When Female Impersonation became illegal, Eltinge fell into alcoholism and died from it. Choi killing themselves was an artistic choice. Eltinge didn’t commit suicide.
> 
> The story of the boy asking Iroh and Iroh asking Choi is also based on Julian Eltinge. It was a story an older Drag Queen had told about Eltinge from when they were younger. How they had snuck backstage to talk and Eltinge told them they didn’t want to be like him. Again, I took artistic liberties because for some reason Choi just ended up with a sadder story then intended.
> 
> Bothwell Browne is the inspiration for the moment where the bar owner admonishes Iroh for being too flirty as Browne was often seen as too attractive and lewd in their roles (they weren't actually it was just the homophobia of the time).
> 
> I kind of jammed like 80 years of drag history into 30 years with the 1920-1930s happening when Iroh was 13-21. Then the 1940-1970s was happening when Iroh was 21-24. The 1980-2000s was happening when Iroh was 24-31 (the age he is at the end of the story).


End file.
